I watch in slow-motion horror as my body is propelled forward, the cop’s finger pulls back on the trigger, and then an incredible amount of pain smashes me in the chest and blossoms out to consume every single square inch of my body. Everything goes white with blinding pain and then, blissfully, my world goes black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BEEP…
BEEP-BEEP…
BEEP…
MY vision is blurry.
I hear voices murmuring next to me.
A sheet.
A white sheet.
There’s a white sheet over my face.
There’s a white sheet over my face?
THERE’S A FUCKING WHITE SHEET OVER MY FACE! OH MY GOD! I’M DEAD!
I scramble to get away from the light. No light! No tunnel! Fuck you, tunnel, I’m not coming in!
“No!” I yell, fighting the gauze between the worlds. “I’m not dead! I’m not dead! I’m not dead yet, fuckers! I’m not going! I’m not ready! I’m too young! I haven’t even tried anal sex yet!”
Strong hands grab my wrists and hold me still.
Do angels wrestle? Am I about to be part of an otherworldly smack-down?
“Quin, relax. You’re not dead. You’re just stupid.”
I freeze, no longer fighting the archangel Gabriel or whoever it is that has me in an iron grip.
Recognition dawns. “Who’s that? Teagan?”
“Open your eyes, dipshit.” She’s laughing at me, I can tell by her tone.
“They are open,” I say, squeezing my eyes tight together. “Oh.” My lids are already together.
I use my fingers to pry them open. Bright light hits my eyeballs and I squint to try and see through the haze. I guess it wasn’t a sheet there. Heh-heh. Did I say anal sex or was that just a bad dream?
“Where am I?” I finally ask.
“You’re in the hospital,” Teagan says. She leans over so I can finally see her face. She’s smiling.
“Stop doing that,” I say, frowning. “I almost died.” I’m pretty sure that’s the truth, too. I feel pain everywhere.
“No, you didn’t,” she says, practically laughing. “Now, Mick … yes, he almost bit the big one.”
My hands grab my covers in an attempt to throw them to the side. The pain in my chest stops me. “Oh, shit,” I say, breathing heavily through the agony. “He shot me, didn’t he? That cop. Do I have a hideous scar? Do I need a heart transplant?” I’m afraid to look down. “How long have I been out? Has it been days? Weeks?” I cringe as I wait for the answer. Maybe I’ve been here a year in a coma. I reach up to touch my hair and then my eyebrows. “How bad is it?”
Tegan is laughing too hard to answer me. She snorts like a pig, and unfortunately she’s sitting too far back for me to slap now.
Rebel comes into view from behind a curtain. “She okay?” he asks her.
“I’m fine, other than the fact that I almost died of a gunshot wound to the chest. I’m suing, you know. You can count on that.”
Rebel has the nerve to laugh. Two chuckles and he’s gone behind the curtain again.
“I’d really like to know what’s so funny about me being shot. I mean, what the fuck? Am I being punked right now or what? And where are my parents? Please tell me you told them what happened. They must be worried sick.”
Teagan takes me by the hand. “They know. They were already here and then they left.” She hands me her phone. “Call them and talk to them if you want.”
I snatch the phone away. “Not before you explain what the hell happened after I was shot. In the chest. With a gun. And a bullet. Where’s Mick? Is he okay? What was wrong with him?”
Teagan pulls the chair closer and takes my hand slowly petting it. “Babe, I hate to burst your superhero bubble, but you weren’t shot.”
“Bullshit,” I say, struggling with my hospital gown. Some idiot put the damn thing on backwards. I can feel it’s open in the back but I can’t see my chest because the material is in the way.
Teagan takes my hand and stills it. “You were tazed, babe. Tazed in the chest. With a taser.”
I stop trying to yank my hand away. “Tazed?” That sounds a lot less sexy than being shot with a gun.
“Yes. You got a couple prongs embedded in your skin and about a thousand volts sent through your body, but that’s it. No bullets. No blood. You’re going to live.” She tries to hold in a snort and ends up burping instead.